Chapter 4 - The Truth Behind Bianca Romano
Three weeks after Nico’s birth, Bianca Romano disappeared.
At first, I did not care.
Her name was not mine to carry anymore.
She had been Lucian’s choice.
His betrayal.
His problem.
Then Miriam received a call from an investigator connected to the legal team.
“Bianca is asking to speak with Serena,” she said.
I looked up from Nico’s feeding schedule.
“Why?”
“She claims she has information involving the Moretti family accounts.”
My first instinct was to refuse.
Then I remembered the trust documents.
The money hidden under my son’s name.
The fear in Lucian’s face when he realized I had copies.
“Arrange a meeting,” I said.
The meeting took place in Miriam’s office under strict security.
Bianca entered wearing a black coat and no makeup. Without the silk dresses, perfect hair, and social-media glamour, she looked smaller than I expected.
Younger.
Worried.
She sat across from me, twisting her fingers together.
“You hate me,” she said.
“I don’t have the energy to hate you.”
Her eyes lowered.
“I did not know you were in labor.”
“You knew he was married.”
“Yes.”
“You knew I was pregnant.”
“Yes.”
“And you still let him stay with you.”
Bianca began crying.
“I thought he would leave you.”
“He told you that?”
“He said you were unhappy. He said the marriage was over.”
I almost laughed.
Men like Lucian told different lies to different women and expected both to protect them.
“What do you want, Bianca?”
She wiped her eyes.
“I want out.”
“Out of what?”
“Lucian’s uncle, Vittorio, has been using the family companies to move money. Lucian knew some of it, but he did not know everything. When you started asking questions, Vittorio became nervous.”
My body went still.
“Why would he care about me?”
“Because you found the trust accounts. Those accounts were not only connected to your son. They were connected to several shell companies.”
I remembered the documents.
The strange transfers.
The rushed explanations.
Bianca pulled a small flash drive from her purse.
“I found this in Lucian’s villa office in Sicily. I thought it was proof of the affair at first. But it’s financial records. Names. Payments. Messages between Vittorio and people in city government.”
“You stole this?”
“I copied it.”
“Why give it to me?”
“Because Vittorio thinks I know too much now. And because Lucian will protect you, but he will not protect me.”
I studied her.
Part of me wanted to tell her that she had chosen this life.
But another part recognized the fear in her eyes.
Women like Bianca and me had been treated differently by the Moretti world.
I had been the wife.
She had been the mistress.
But both of us had been expected to stay quiet while powerful men made decisions around us.
I took the drive.
“I can’t promise you protection.”
“I know.”
“But I can give this to my attorney.”
Bianca nodded.
Two days later, Lucian arrived at Miriam’s office without warning.
He found me standing near the window, holding Nico.
He looked exhausted.
His beard was untrimmed. His coat was wrinkled. The man who once controlled every detail of his appearance looked like he had not slept in weeks.
“You met Bianca,” he said.
“Yes.”
“What did she tell you?”
“The truth. More than you ever did.”
Lucian’s expression darkened.
“She should not have come to you.”
“She had nowhere else to go.”
“She is dangerous.”
“So are you.”
He flinched.
I did not enjoy it.
But I would not soften the truth for him anymore.
Lucian looked at Nico.
“Can I hold him today?”
The question was careful.
No command.
No entitlement.
Just a question.
I looked at my son.
Then back at Lucian.
“Sit down.”
Lucian’s eyes widened slightly.
He sat in the chair across from me.
I walked slowly toward him and placed Nico in his arms.
Lucian froze.
For a man who had held power over countless lives, he looked terrified by seven pounds and four ounces of sleeping baby.
Nico stirred.
Lucian looked down at him.
His eyes filled with tears.
Real tears.
Not the controlled emotion Lucian used during funerals or negotiations.
He pressed one trembling finger against Nico’s tiny hand.
Our son wrapped his fingers around it.
Lucian broke.
He lowered his head and cried silently.
I watched him.
And for the first time, I saw not a mafia boss.
Not the husband who betrayed me.
Not the man who missed his son’s birth.
I saw a frightened boy who had never been taught that love required presence.
But I also knew something important.
Understanding someone’s pain did not excuse the pain they caused.
“You can visit Nico,” I said quietly. “With supervision. On my terms.”
Lucian looked up.
“Serena—”
“This is not forgiveness.”
“I know.”
“This is for him.”
May you like
Lucian nodded.
“For him,” he repeated.
